Valley of the Shadow
by Aireon Maris
Summary: Daniel Jackson and Miranda Connelly are trapped by an earthquake in a cave that may not be as empty as it seems. Cut off from the Stargate and reinforcements, their only hope is Miranda’s dangerous and unpredictable gift.
1. Chapter 1

Valley of the Shadow

Author's note: Hi everyone! Thanks for choosing this story to read. It takes place shortly after the Season Two finale and is the first in the Reflections Series. Enjoy and please review!

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_Daniel was forced to watch as the Goa'uld burrowed into the back of Jack's neck, taking over his body and destroying the core of his humanity. Jack turned to Daniel, his eyes glowing. He lifted his hand, and the sickly orange light brought pain and fire and betrayal._

"_Die, human," rasped the voice of his friend, who was no more._

Daniel jerked up onto his elbow, panting heavily. Faint moonlight seeped through the curtains. A cool breeze wafted in from the partially open window, drying the sweat on his skin. His heart realized it was just a dream and stopped racing, allowing him to lie back against the pillow.

He rolled over and squinted to bring the numbers of his clock into focus. Three o'clock in the morning. If this continued, he was going to have to ask Janet for sedatives. He grimaced at the thought. He really didn't like medications.

Janet had suggested a psychologist, but he didn't really like Dr. McKenzie, either. And Daniel couldn't very well go to a civilian one and say, "oh, yes, I'm having nightmares of when my best friend was possessed by an evil alien parasite."

He winced. Three years ago, if he had heard someone say that, he would have called them insane in a heartbeat. Yet here he was, using artificial wormholes to instantaneously transport his disassembled molecules across light-years of empty space to other planets. Talk about crazy.

Throwing back the blankets, Daniel crawled out of bed and headed for the kitchen. He watched the water flow from the tap into his cup. On Abydos, water was a precious commodity. He had forgotten that water wasn't supposed to taste flat and tepid. Taking a few sips, he set the cup aside. His body was used to making the most of a little moisture.

On his way back to his bedroom, he caught sight of the new book he had brought back from the Mountain. He hesitated, debating whether to pick it up and take it with him. He sighed and left it on the coffee table. He needed sleep; after their second run-in with Hathor, they all did. He crawled back under the covers, consigning himself to more dreams.

*****

_Keep running. Don't stop. Breathe. One foot in front of the other. Can't stop; must keep moving. Breathe._ Her world shrank to the very primal instincts: fight or flight. She knew she couldn't fight, so she fled with all her strength.

The city was dead and quiet around her. Stumbling with exhaustion, she paused for a moment to lean against a wall. Her hand trembled violently as she brought it up to her right shoulder and felt warm wetness slide through her fingers. She couldn't remember how long she had been bleeding or how much blood she had lost.

She pushed herself away from the brick, her steps unsteady as she began to run again.

*****

The day began with coffee. For Dr. Daniel Jackson, it couldn't begin any other way. He savored the aroma of Sumatra with just the right amount of cream and sugar as he listened to the news on the television. Checking the clock, he decided to forgo breakfast despite the lecture Jack would give him if he found out.

He checked the clock again and muttered an Abydonian expletive under his breath. Grabbing his jacket and his travel mug, he searched frantically for his car keys until he realized they were still in his jacket pocket. Scooping up the book, he barely managed not to drop anything on his way to the elevator.

At six o'clock in the morning the lobby of the apartment building was empty, so no one witnessed the book dropping, another muttered expletive, and the angry motions of donning the jacket. Retrieving the book, Daniel made it out the door and into the parking lot.

He had parked his car in the far corner, reluctant to risk damaging the Air Force's gift. It wasn't a Rolls Royce or anything, but it was new and it was his. He fumbled in his pocket for the keys…

…Which hit the ground with a jangle when he saw the blood streaked across the side of his car. "What the hell?" he wondered, staring at the red stain. He carefully brushed it with a fingertip. It was fresh, very fresh. Concerned now, he cast around.

"Hello? Anyone there?" he called.

A quiet scrape and a muffled sob led him around his car and to the mouth of the dead-end alley just beyond. "Are you all right?" He stepped forward hesitantly, trying to pierce the pre-dawn gloom.

"Not going back; won't go back," a cracked voice muttered. There was another sob. "Can't, won't."

"It's all right, I'm not going to make you go back," Daniel murmured gently, saying what he hoped the person wanted to hear.

"Help me?" The plea sounded more like a question. Daniel responded instinctively.

"Of course I will," he said, stepping into the shadows. After a moment, his eyesight adjusted, and what he saw horrified him.

She was curled into a ball, huddled against the wall. Her bowed head was shaved, covered only by short stubble. The sleeveless shirt and baggy trousers had once been white, but were now covered in grime and blood.

"My God," Daniel breathed. He took off his coat and edged forward carefully. She cringed away, whimpering. "Shh, sh sh. I'm not going to hurt you; it's okay now." He got close enough to see she was so malnourished that her bones jutted out at sharp angles. He draped the coat over her shoulders and she immediately pulled it tighter.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"40315," she whimpered, ducking her head down and away from him.

"That's not your name, that's a number," Daniel's voice trailed off when he saw the tattoo on the back of her head, stark black numbers against her pale skin. "Who did this to you?"

She began to tremble convulsively, tears streaming down her cheeks. Daniel touched her uninjured shoulder, encouraged when she didn't pull away. "Come with me. I'll get you cleaned up."

She almost made it across the parking lot before collapsing again. Daniel caught her and hoisted her in his arms. She barely weighed anything. They reached his apartment without anyone noticing, thankfully. Daniel didn't even want to speculate what his neighbors would think. He washed the blood from her arm with warm, soapy water. The wound in her shoulder was ragged and swollen, already in the first stages of infection.

"What happened to you?" he asked when she seemed more or less lucid. For the first time, she looked him in the face. She had pale green eyes like a cat, framed in dark lashes. Tears spilled down her cheeks in an unending fall.

"They hurt me," she whispered. She hissed in pain when he dabbed hydrogen peroxide on the wound. Then she went unnaturally still, allowing him to tend the injury. "Please don't take me back."

"I won't. No one will hurt you anymore," he promised fiercely. He began to fill the bathtub. "Can you take a bath on your own?" She frowned, glancing from the tub to his face. "Never mind," Daniel said quickly. "Just wait here, I have to make a phone call."

"No!" she cried, grabbing his arm with surprising strength. "You said you wouldn't take me back."

"I won't. I just have to call my boss and tell him I won't be coming to work."

She shook her head stubbornly. "No. You _promised_."

He looked down at her, so vulnerable and frightened. "All right. No phone calls. Let's get you cleaned up."

An hour later, she was clean and dressed in some of Daniel's sweats. She stayed awake long enough to get to the bedroom and into bed. He checked her breathing, turned out the light, and made a beeline for the phone.

"O'Neill."

"Jack, it's Daniel."

"Daniel! Where the hell are you? You were supposed to be here an hour and a half ago."

"I'm at home. Listen, Jack, when I went out to my car, I found a woman hiding in the parking lot. She looks like she escaped from a hospital or something."

"Well, start calling around."

Daniel hesitated. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Jack. She's severely underweight and exhausted. She's covered in bruises and there's a nasty gash on her shoulder."

There was a moment of silence. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like what you're about to say?" Jack asked. Daniel sighed, running his fingers through his newly shortened hair.

"Her head is shaved and somebody tattooed what looks like a serial number on the back of her skull. 40315. Like a concentration camp or something."

"I'll be over in twenty minutes."

"Thanks, Jack," Daniel said, feeling infinitely relieved. "Bring Sam, too."

"Will do. See ya, Daniel."

*****

Her eyes flew open and she saw a dull, gray ceiling. Fear surged through her veins, and she was out of the cot before she realized it, knocking over a rolling stand and blundering into a privacy curtain.

"Whoa, there," a soft, feminine voice said. "It's okay, calm down."

She slowly lowered her arms away from her face. A petite woman crouched out of arm's reach, watching her with a gentle expression. She had brown eyes and reddish hair piled up on her head.

"You probably don't remember coming here last night, do you?" the woman asked. "I can understand why you'd be afraid. My name is Dr. Janet Frasier. I'm going to help you."

"He said he wouldn't take me back," she whispered. Dr. Frasier smiled.

"Daniel keeps his promises. You're in the infirmary of the Cheyenne Mountain Complex, an Air Force base. No one is going to take you back. We'll protect you." Dr. Frasier held out her hand invitingly.

She looked from the hand to the doctor and back. Then she cautiously put her hand into Janet's and let her pull her to her feet.

"See? That wasn't so hard." Janet patted the cot. "Come on back up here, and we'll talk."

"About what?" she asked warily, climbing back onto the hospital bed. That was when she realized she was dressed in a clean set of white scrubs. She wrapped her arms around her shins and stared at the pretty doctor over her knees.

"You, of course," Janet had a smile as pretty as face. "Starting with your name."

She frowned, stopping the first response that jumped to her lips. _That's not your name, that's a number_, Daniel's words sprang to her mind. She snapped her mouth closed. "No one's asked me that in a long time," she whispered.

Janet's smile faltered slightly. "Well, I'm asking you now."

She put her forehead against her knees. Why was it so hard to remember? Everything before opening her eyes to see Daniel standing over her was blurry.

"Miranda," she forced past her reluctant tongue. "Miranda Connelly."

"Very Irish. Goes with your accent and your eyes." Janet nodded and wrote the name down. "What else can you tell me about yourself?"

Miranda stared wide-eyed at her. "You won't take me back? You'll protect me?"

"Yes, we will," Janet said firmly. "I promise."

She unfolded slowly. "What's the date?"

Janet blinked bemusedly. "March 14th, 1999," she replied after a minute. Miranda closed her eyes, two tears slipping through her lashes.

"Then the nightmare started three years ago…"

*****

Miranda tilted her head back and watched a bird dart by, its dark wings flashing against the clouds. The air tasted crisp and fresh as she slowly drew in a full breath.

"I remember asking Carter once why, no matter how many planets we visited, the sky was always blue."

She smiled briefly and lowered her head to look at her companion. Jack returned her smile. He stood with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched slightly against the wind. She snuggled a little deeper into her wool coat; he had forgotten to put a jacket on over his gray turtleneck.

"And what did she say?" Miranda asked.

"You really want to know?" He raised his eyebrows. She nodded. "It went something like this: 'Well, sir, the sky on any planet capable of sustaining human life will be blue due to the length of light waves in the visible spectrum—'"

"Ack!" Miranda cried, throwing up her hands. "Enough!"

"That's what I said."

They exchanged another grin and resumed walking. Unconsciously, Miranda drifted just close enough to him so that their shoulders brushed. Once she noticed, she pulled away again. Janet said that it was an instinctive gesture, a reaching out for comfort to the people she trusted the most.

"Glad to be out?" Jack asked after a moment. Miranda savored another taste of cold air.

"Yes," she replied whole-heartedly. It had been a year since she had been taken to the SGC, and it had finally been decided that she was no longer a risk to others or herself. That didn't mean, however, that they would let her seek residence off base.

Yet.

"You can stand only so much concrete," she admitted. "I think I was going stir-crazy there at the end."

"Sooo, you want to do coffee?" Jack tilted his head, giving her a hopeful look. She laughed delightedly.

"Sure. Lead on, Colonel O'Neill."

Once safely ensconced in the couches of their favorite coffee shop, they resumed their previous conversation.

"What do you plan to do now that Janet's given you a clean bill of health?"

Miranda took a careful sip of her white mocha. "She still wants me under observation," she said flatly.

"For your own safety," Jack corrected. "You know what would happen if _they_ found you again."

A shudder of pure fear ran down her spine, causing sweat to break out on her forehead. Chiding herself fiercely, she forced the instinctive reaction aside. "Yes, so until I'm able to live on my own out here, I'm not going to contest my current status."

"Missing, presumed dead?" Jack asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I could be putting my family in danger by trying to contact them," she said, shaking her head. "Especially now with what I've gotten involved in."

Miranda had become restless, wanting to earn her keep and use her hard-earned Doctorate of Sociology, so the SGC had hired her as a researcher and assigned her to Daniel Jackson's department.

He shrugged. "That's your choice, of course."

"Yes, it is," she said, giving him a sharp look. "Jack—"

He held up a hand. "You're right, of course. I'm sorry I asked." He nursed his coffee in silence for a moment. "How are language lessons going?"

"Bloody slowly," Miranda said with a grimace. "Not that Dr. Rothman is a bad teacher, but Daniel's notes are so confusing! Does he have any organizational system at all?"

He laughed. "Not really. Carter keeps getting on him about that. I'll make him give you some tutoring sessions, how about that?"

"Deal," Miranda favored him with her shy smile.

*****

Jack gallantly offered Miranda his arm as they made their way back through the park. He noted her brief hesitation before placing her hand lightly on his elbow.

He studied her out of the corner of his eye as they walked. Her hair had grown out red-gold and framed her face in soft curls. Her Irish accent added a pleasant lilt to her voice. She was an attractive woman and Jack knew it. He didn't miss the appreciative glances she got from the Marines.

But he didn't think that she had recovered from her ordeal enough to be in a serious relationship.

Yet.

In the meantime, he wasn't letting anyone else near her. Everyone knew the colonel had put his mark on her.

"When do you think General Hammond will let me go on an off-world mission?" Miranda asked a little wistfully. Jack dragged his thoughts forcibly to the present.

"Soon," he replied. "It's obvious that your control is improving, and you'd be useful. I mean, you already _are_, of course."

A dimple appeared and disappeared so quickly Jack wasn't sure he had actually seen it. "That depends on whether you ask Sergeant Siler or the coffeepot."

Jack chuckled, tucking his arm close to his side so that her hand was pressed against his ribs. His eyebrows shot up. "Your hands are _cold_! Don't you have gloves?"

"Not really," she muttered. At his look, she continued plaintively, "Okay, so I do, but I keep forgetting them."

He took her hands in his, chafing them to encourage blood flow. They were tense at first, slim and white with cold. Then they relaxed, growing slowly warmer.

"Keep them in your pockets," he told her. She dimpled again and obeyed, tucking her chin into her fuzzy, green scarf.

"Better yet, let's head back," she suggested. "It's going to get dark here soon."

"Right," Jack agreed, and they turned toward his car.

*****

Miranda took the stairs two at a time, narrowly dodging a couple of airmen descending. She still wasn't completely used to the combat boots; they made her feet feel heavy and clumsy.

She reached the control room just as Sergeant Harriman announced, "Chevron one encoded!" She moved to stand beside him, staring out through the windows.

The chamber beyond was dominated by a two-storey tall metal ring, which was currently steaming slightly as the inner circle spun ponderously.

"Chevron two encoded!"

The second chevron lit up, locking the symbol into place. Then it continued dialing. Miranda craned her neck a little to see the small group of people clustered at the base of the ramp leading up to the Stargate.

Jack, feeling the weight of her stare, looked up and waved. She lifted her hand in reply.

"Chevron five encoded!"

General Hammond appeared from the direction of the briefing room. "Dr. Connelly," he greeted.

"General," she nodded in reply. "Where are they going today?"

"M7X-098. Routine reconnaissance mission."

Miranda smiled faintly. "Sir, by now you should know that nothing about SG-1 is routine."

He shook his balding head resignedly. "Oh, I do, Dr. Connelly. I do."

"Chevron seven is locked!"

Miranda turned quickly back to the window in time to see blue plasma boil out from the Stargate and extend almost to the end of the ramp. It retracted into a serenely rippling surface, throwing watery reflections onto the dull, gray walls.

General Hammond reached over and keyed the PA. "SG-1, you have a go!" Colonel O'Neill grinned and made a "go on" gesture. Hammond rolled his eyes. "Godspeed," he added.

Jack flashed them a thumbs-up and strode onto the ramp, Major Carter on his heels. Daniel and Teal'c followed a few steps behind. Jack turned to wave one last time before the event horizon swallowed them.

The Stargate disengaged with a sputter, the reflections winking out. Miranda sighed, wishing she could have gone with them. General Hammond patted her shoulder.

"Soon, Dr. Connelly," he said, answering her unspoken question. She sighed heavily and left the control room with reluctant steps. She had another session with Dr. Frasier.


	2. Chapter 2

"Miranda? Come on, Miranda, wake up." The anxious voice pierced her numbed brain, slowly dragging her back to consciousness.

And pain.

"Ow," she moaned, trying not to move her head. Her eyes and mouth felt full of grit and every inch of exposed skin stung. Something moist dabbed at her forehead.

"That's it. Wake up, all the way. Can you open your eyes?"

She blinked and fought the weights on her eyelids. "Is it supposed to be this dark?" she asked in confusion.

"Oh, sorry. Hang on a second." A beam of light clicked on into existence, angled upwards. She blinked the last of the grit from her eyes and began to take in her surroundings.

"Please tell me there wasn't a cave-in and we're trapped," she said weakly.

Daniel stared back at her. "It was an earthquake, actually," he said. She groaned and tried to sit up. Bad idea. The rock chamber began to swim sickeningly, and she eased back down. She reached up to explore the back of her head and he swatted her hand away.

"You probably have a concussion," Daniel told her, wiping her face with his damp bandana. "Try to lie still."

"No argument there," Miranda said, closing her eyes. "Where's everyone else?"

"Outside," Daniel said, relief in his voice. "Hopefully they'll be able to bring back help to dig us out of here."

"The radios work?"

"Our radios can call each other, but I'm not picking up anything outside the cave."

"_Damnú. _So there _is_ naquadah in here after all."

"Yup."

A cool drop of water trickled down her neck and pooled in the hollow of her throat. "Please tell me you aren't wasting drinking water."

"No, there's a small puddle in the back of the cave. I don't know how pure the water is, though."

"That's fine," Miranda mumbled. Then a question popped in her mind, sending her eyes flying open again. "Daniel, you aren't hurt, are you?"

"_I _wasn't in the mouth of the cave when the earthquake hit," he said dryly. "I'm filthy, but fine."

"Oh, good." She felt herself sliding back toward unconsciousness. "G'night, Daniel."

*****

Daniel waited until he was sure she was asleep before sitting back and putting his head on his knees. He felt bad lying to her, but she needed to hope. With a heavy sigh, he scrubbed at his hair, dirt trickling through his fingers.

The last, hurried transmission from Sam before the earthquake loosened the mountainside had been to announce there was a mothership in orbit. Miranda must have been too absorbed in the stalagmite formations to notice, laced with static as the call had been.

Jack would have had no choice but to get the rest of his team back to the gate, leaving Daniel and Miranda behind.

They were on their own.

He had already explored the rest of the rambling cave. There appeared to be a natural passageway off to one side. As soon as Miranda felt up to walking, they would head down it and see where it led. Hopefully, to the surface. After that, Daniel's plan got a little vague, as he had no idea how many Jaffa here now on the planet.

He got to his feet and walked over to the natural basin that had caught the water trickling down the wall and rolled the bandana in the shallow pool. This time, he attempted to wash himself off, cleansing the dust from his face and neck.

He began to catalogue what they had available, grateful that their packs had made it into the cave with them. They would have to be careful with the flashlight batteries, and with the ammunition. They only had two extra clips each for their sidearms. Hopefully, they wouldn't need to use them.

Finished with his task, he returned to Miranda's side and turned off the flashlight, preparing himself to a blind vigil.

*****

Miranda's head pounded ceaselessly, but she was able to ignore it for the most part. It was just when she turned too quickly or Daniel inadvertently shined the flashlight into her eyes that it was truly painful.

"How long have we been walking?" she panted after what felt like an eternity.

"Two hours," Daniel replied absently.

"Was there a specific reason we couldn't wait in the cave for the rest of SG-1 to come back with some engineers to dig us out?"

He didn't reply for a moment. "There's always the possibility they won't be able to make it through. We should explore all our options."

She reached out and grabbed his arm. "They're not coming back, are they?" she demanded. She saw the answer in his eyes. "_A Thiarna_, Daniel, just tell me they're alive!"

"They are," he assured her, and the knot of fear eased in her chest. "But right before the earthquake, Sam called and said there was a ha'tak in orbit."

"Oh," Miranda said bleakly. "So even if we get out of here, we'll have to dodge Jaffa the whole way to the bloody Stargate." He nodded mutely.

She rubbed her forehead. "This isn't exactly what I hoped my first off-world excursion would be like."

"Neither was mine," he replied dryly. "I got killed, remember?"

She snorted. "Okay, fine, if it's a contest, you win." Heaving a deep sigh, she took another step down the passage. "Let's go, then."

They came to a split in the tunnel shortly afterwards. "Daniel, look at this," Miranda said, peering down the left-hand one. He shined the light past her pointing hand.

"Interesting," he murmured. About ten feet past the fork, the passage went from crude to smooth stone. "That looks man-made."

"Or Goa'uld-made," Miranda added.

"Well, let's see where it goes." Daniel decided. Miranda followed as he set out down the tunnel. "If it doesn't go to the surface, it at least goes somewhere."

"Maybe to a set of rings," Miranda said hopefully. Though she had never gone off world before, she had ready absolutely everything she could. She had a quick mind and an excellent memory, able to retain even minute details of reports she had read once.

"That would be nice," Daniel agreed. "But we're never that lucky."

The passageway was intersected numerous times, but each time they explored the branches, it either led to a dead-end chamber or a collapsed tunnel. Only the main hallway was still intact.

"I wonder how recent this damage is," Daniel mused out loud. Miranda couldn't have cared less. She just wanted out of the dark, cramped tunnel.

As if in reply to her wishes, they stepped abruptly into a wide, open space. The flashlight beam was lost before it hit the far side; when Daniel pointed it up, it was swallowed by darkness.

"Whoa," Miranda said.

"Exactly what I was thinking."

They walked straight out from the tunnel, the light sweeping the area in front of them. It stopped on piles of rubble, shattered masonry, and twisted scraps of metal.

"What was this place?" Miranda wondered, stopping to investigate a broken statue.

"I don't recognize it," Daniel tilted his head. "There's no inscription. The style looks vaguely Eastern European, maybe even Greek."

She got back to her feet and they continued walking. "I think there are other tunnels here," Daniel said. "Can you feel that breeze?"

It was cool and dank, blowing faintly from several different directions. "The scope of the underground network must have been huge," Miranda observed. She sidestepped what appeared to be the remains of a giant ornamental vase. Daniel reached over and grabbed her arm. "What is it, Daniel?"

He replied in a hoarse whisper that made the hair stand up on the back of her neck.

"We're not alone."

*****

Colonel Jack O'Neill stood ramrod straight in front of his commanding officer and seriously considered insubordination. "Sir, with all due respect," he began.

"I'm sorry, Colonel," General Hammond cut him off. "I won't sign off on a mission that deliberately places the lives of my men in serious jeopardy."

"Since when, sir?" Jack asked in disbelief. "This is _my team_ we're talking about here."

"I understand what they mean to you, Colonel O'Neill," Hammond said sharply. "But that planet is crawling with Jaffa. I don't want to lose _more_ valuable people."

"We don't leave people behind!" Jack burst out, quickly running out of patience. "_I_ don't leave people behind. Not them."

General Hammond must have known what Jack was feeling, because he took the outburst calmly. "I'm sorry, Colonel," he said again. "But Dr. Jackson has proven several times that he's capable of getting himself out of tight spots. And he's got with him the one person probably best suited to helping him do so."

"Miranda's an emotionally traumatized young woman of questionable mental stability who happens to be in possession of a very dangerous ability, sir," Jack bit out, and instantly regretted it.

Hammond frowned. "That's unfair, Jack, and you know it. Dr. Connelly has been deemed healthy, or else Dr. Frasier would never have allowed her to accompany you on this mission."

"Yes, sir, and it's my fault they're still there. They are my responsibility and I need to go after them." Jack held his temper barely in check. If this didn't work, he was prepared to get down on his knees and beg.

"We'll send a MALP through to PR2-986 in eight hours. If the gate area is clear, I'll consider authorizing a rescue operation," Hammond said, sitting down at his desk. "Until then, you are to stand down. Is that understood?"

Jack's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Yes, sir," he mumbled, and left the office with heavy steps.

Carter and Teal'c were waiting for him in the corridor. Carter bounced from the wall, studying his face gravely. "He said no, didn't he?" she asked.

"He's going to send a MALP through in eight hours to reassess the situation," Jack told his 2IC bitterly. "Until then, squat."

"Daniel Jackson has survived worse situations before, O'Neill," Teal'c reminded him.

"Yeah, that's what Hammond said." Jack ran his hand through his hair. Three years ago, it had been brown. Then he had taken responsibility of a sneezing, geeky scientist whose purpose in life seemed to be turning Jack's hair gray.

"At least he's not alone this time," Carter said cautiously. Jack sent her a flat look and started walking down the corridor. His teammates caught up with him and flanked him.

"They'll be okay," Carter said, to reassure herself as much as him.

"Keep telling yourself that, Major," Jack said quietly.

*****

Daniel's heart beat thunderously against his ribs, adrenaline pumping through his veins. The flashlight beam bobbed wildly in front of him, and Miranda's footsteps grated behind him.

That terrifying moment when he realized there was something alive in that chamber with them, when they heard the heavy breathing of something not human, stayed with him. They had bolted for the nearest tunnel, heedless of where they ran, as long as it was _away_.

"Did we lose it?" Miranda gasped breathlessly.

"No idea," Daniel panted. "Oh, please, _please_ don't let it be an Unas."

"Don't even _say_ that," Miranda said, alarmed. Then, "Daniel, I have to stop."

They slowed down and leaned against the wall, trying to catch their breath. Daniel strained for any signs of pursuit, but the only sound was their panting. On the downside, he had no idea where they were. He voiced his concern to Miranda.

"Well, I can get us back to the central chamber," she said hesitantly. "Not that that would do us any good."

"No, not really," he agreed. "You okay, now?"

"My head feels like it's going to explode, but otherwise, I'll live." She pushed away from the wall. "I'm ready to get out of here."

"You and me both," Daniel said. He checked the flashlight batteries and they set out again, instincts primed to run.

*****

Miranda began to hum under her breath as they walked, just a simple melody to keep her mind off their predicament. At first she thought it was the echoes, but then she realized it was Daniel humming along.

She stopped humming in surprise, and Daniel continued for a few seconds alone. Then he stopped and cleared his throat self-consciously.

"Sorry," he said. Miranda grinned.

"No problem. You know the words to 'Danny Boy'?" she asked mischievously. Daniel grinned back.

"Jack insisted on teaching me shortly after I returned to Earth."

"Can you sing it in Irish?"

Daniel cocked his head. "You know, that has got to be one of the few languages I _don't_ know."

Miranda was about to enlighten him when a faint sound made her freeze. "Uh, Daniel?" she whispered.

He stopped dead in his tracks. "What is it?"

"I think it's back."

"Which direction?" Daniel's voice trembled slightly—not from fear, but from suppressed adrenaline. Miranda ducked her head and closed her eyes. Then she pointed the way they had come.

"It's following us."

"All right, let's keep moving," said Daniel. "Don't run yet."

She had to fight the urge to flee with every step. Janet had told her that a side effect of her increased brain activity was heightened senses. Now she was acutely aware of the faint, shuffling footsteps that dogged them.

"It's _stalking_ us, like hunting prey," Miranda hissed, listening to the even, snorting breath.

"Can you tell if it goes on all fours?"

After a moment of silence, she had the answer, but it made her stomach clench with fear. "No. It walks on two feet."

"Great," Daniel muttered. Suddenly, the ground under their feet began to tremble. Miranda lost her balance and fell against the wall.

"Ugh," she said, snatching her hands away.

"What?" Daniel asked sharply.

"Nothing. There's water trickling down this wall, that's all." She wiped her hands on the seat of her pants. "That wasn't encouraging."

"We could be near a fault line. Sam would be able to tell."

Miranda reached out and touched his arm. "Come on, let's keep moving."


	3. Chapter 3

"Left, right, or onward?" Daniel muttered, flicking the flashlight down each choice. "Up, down, or straight?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Miranda poked her head down the right-hand path. "Up."

"Well, it's not like we have anything else to go on," Daniel admitted, joining her. "You getting hungry?"

"A little," she admitted, checking her watch. "_A thiarcais_! It's only been six hours?"

"You were unconscious for two of those."

"_Imigh sa diabhal_."

Daniel chuckled, guessing the meaning behind the words. It amused him that she randomly inserted Irish phrases into her regular speech.

"I don't think it'd be a good idea to stop now, Daniel," she went on. "It's still following us."

His smile vanished. "It's keeping its distance, right?" She nodded slowly, and then she rubbed her face.

"I'm exhausted and my head is killing me," she said wearily. "I don't know how much longer I can keep walking."

"Our only choices are to keep going or confront it," Daniel told her. "And if it's what I think it is, we don't want to confront it."

"Unas, huh?" Miranda sighed. "I read the mission report on Cimmeria. Not good."

"Nope, not good." Daniel watched her wrap her arms around herself.

"Daniel, I'm afraid," she whispered. He reached up to tug one of her short curls.

"It's going to be okay," he told her, keeping his voice light. "We just have to stay together."

She took a deep breath and nodded, giving him a watery smile. "Right. I'm okay now."

He linked his arm through hers. "Come on." They stepped out together, and the ground shook beneath them. They clung to each other to stay upright, but the tremor didn't stop.

"Go, go!" Daniel yelled, pushing her ahead of him. Dust trickled down from the ceiling and she stumbled before regaining her feet and sprinting up the passage. Daniel glanced behind him and turned to follow, but something crashed into the back of his skull.

He didn't lose consciousness immediately, but he fell to the ground, unable to move as a distant roar filled his ears.

*****

Miranda curled up as tight as she could, wrapping her arms protectively around her head. The quaking finally ceased after what seemed like hours. She cautiously lifted her head, dirt trickling from her hair and down the front of her uniform. She coughed weakly and spat out a mouthful of grit. With a groan, she pushed herself into a sitting position.

Her head sent her a painful reminder that her skull had been traumatized a few hours before, and she gasped at a sharp jab in her left ankle.

"_Damnú,_" she hissed. "Daniel, are you okay?"

No answer. She turned to look back down the corridor and her heart dropped into her stomach. The tunnel was completely blocked by rubble. Pain forgotten in a jolt of adrenaline-fueled fear, Miranda surged to her feet and threw herself at the blockage.

"Daniel!" she yelled, a migraine igniting somewhere deep in her cranium. She scrabbled for her radio. "Daniel, can you hear me?" She knew the raw naquadah in the tunnels would amplify the radio signal. Only static replied. Miranda rubbed her forehead with the back of her wrist. She tried the radio again.

"Daniel, please respond."

The radio spat more static, but then it clicked twice. "M'r'nda?"

She nearly cried in relief. "Daniel, are you okay?"

"Uh…well, I think I've got a concussion to match yours. And maybe a cracked rib—_ow!_—or two. How about you?"

"I may have sprained my ankle, but I don't think it's broken. Cuts and bruises, but nothing serious."

"Sprained ankle is serious, Miranda. Ouch!"

"What?" Miranda demanded, her anxiety jumping a notch.

"Shined the flashlight in my eyes."

She giggled despite herself. Then she sobered. "Uh, Daniel, I don't know if you noticed it, but what are we going to do about this pile of rock?"

There was a long silence. "We could try to dig," he said without much hope.

"We could," Miranda agreed dismally.

"You could keep going, try to find a way out and bring back help," Daniel suggested. She stiffened.

"Bloody likely!"

"Miranda, I'll be fine. There's no Jaffa down here."

"But there are on the surface. How long do you think I'm going to last on my own?"

"You aced the pistol qualifications. You'll be fine."

"I'm not leaving you here with that _thing_, Daniel."

She didn't quite catch his reply. It might have been "stubborn Irish." She grinned fleetingly. "Next plan, Jackson."

"I think it's your turn, Connelly. Uh, scratch that, let's both start thinking."

"What is it?"

"It's coming this way."

Miranda tore at the wall of rubble, succeeding only in loosening a few stones. "Daniel, keep talking!"

"I can hear it coming up the tunnel. I still have my pistol, but I don't know how effective that's going to be. Hell." His voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "It's an Unas. Oh, God, _it's an Unas!_"

She froze in horror, her imagination providing a vivid picture of Daniel lying helplessly as the monster stalked toward him. It changed abruptly, morphing into a nightmare memory.

_She cringed away from him, clawing uselessly at the linoleum floor. "Please, please," she whimpered. The ugly shape of the gun didn't waver._

"_I will shoot you!" he yelled at her. "I will shoot!" She sobbed without sound, shaking her head._

"_Please don't make me!" she begged. His finger tightened on the trigger. She was helpless against him, helpless to prevent her own death…_

A muffled gunshot jerked her free. "Daniel!" she screamed. A second gunshot, then a third. An inhuman bellow of pain and Daniel's shout.

Miranda stepped back from the barrier, feeling as if she floated outside her own body. She stretched her hands toward the rubble, stretching _into _it, _becoming_ it, until it was her and she was it and it trembled under her touch.

She closed her eyes (she still had eyes?) and clenched her hands (what were they for?). Then, with a cry, she _pulled_ with all her might.

The dirt and rock exploded toward her, flying past her and around her but not a single pebble struck her. Once the way ahead of her was clear, she opened her eyes.

Daniel was propped against the wall of the tunnel, his pistol in one hand. He was turning his head toward her, his mouth falling open. The Unas crouched ten paces further down the tunnel, its hands up to protect its face.

It straightened up, green blood oozing from wounds in its chest. With a roar, it lunged forward.

Miranda threw up her hand in a warding gesture. The Unas fell to the ground as if struck, but it quickly scrambled to its feet again. Searching behind her, she found what she wanted.

The Unas gathered itself to attack and launched itself at Daniel. Something dark and heavy sped past Miranda and met the Unas half-way with a wet crunch. The monster landed on the tunnel floor, the boulder on top. It moved feebly for a moment before going still.

Miranda swayed unsteadily on her feet. She fumbled for the wall and slowly slid to the ground. The flashlight beam wavered in nauseating patterns.

"Bloody hell," she muttered, before her stomach rejected what little it contained.

"Here, rinse your mouth out," Daniel said, crawling over to her and offering his canteen. She took a small sip, spat, and swallowed the next one. "Thank you, by the way," he said in a subdued voice.

"No problem," she replied weakly, shaking uncontrollably from effort and the aftereffects of the memory. "I think I'm going to be sick again."

Daniel held her head as she brought the water back up, and then began to dry heave. When her stomach muscles finally gave out, she put her head in his lap.

He stroked her hair gently until the shaking stopped. "Are you going to be okay now?"

"I think so," she said breathlessly. "Can I have some more water?"

He handed her the canteen and she sipped carefully. Yup, staying down this time. "Is it dead?" She watched uncomfortably as he dragged himself over to the mangled corpse.

"Uh, yeah. Dead." He got to his feet. "You know, when Janet told us what you told her, I had a hard time believing it." He helped her to her feet and they both almost fell back down. "Now I can't imagine how we ever survived without you."

"How about we say you owe me a beer and we leave it at that?" she said, studiously avoiding the sight of the dead Unas.

"Deal." He shined his flashlight up the tunnel. "Guess we're going to have to try door number two," he said. She looked toward where he was pointing. The rubble had to have somewhere to go, and the tunnel was still blocked.

"Fun," she muttered.

*****

The air in the control room was so tense Sam swore she could see it vibrate. She shifted her weight restlessly, her gaze darting from the window to the Colonel.

Her CO's jaw was tight, and she hadn't seen those lines in his face since, well, ever. Sam glanced to her left at Teal'c. Most people couldn't read the Jaffa as well as Sam could; then again, most people didn't try. But she knew Teal'c was as concerned as she was.

The MALP trundled towards the event horizon. Sam unconsciously bounced on her toes.

"Will you stay still for one second, Carter?" O'Neill growled. She dropped back onto her heels.

"Sorry, sir," she muttered.

"Receiving telemetry," a technician announced. Sam nearly bowled him over on her way to the screen.

The static on the display cleared to show the familiar stone dais and the giant mushroom-shape of the DHD. Next to the dialing device sat the first MALP, obviously damaged.

"What's the situation, Major?"

Sam opened her mouth to answer General Hammond when a staff blast impacted the MALP, nearly turning it over.

"The MALP is under fire, sir," Sam said wearily. A second staff blast hit the probe, and the screen went black. "The MALP has been destroyed." She slumped over the console. "The gate appears to be heavily guarded."

Behind her, the colonel slammed his fist against something and hissed in pain. "Sir—"

"I'm sorry, Colonel," Hammond cut him off. "We'll re-evaluate in eight hours." Polished shoes clattered up the narrow stairs leading to the briefing room.

Sam closed her eyes against a sense of hopelessness. A hand gripped her shoulder and she looked up to meet O'Neill's dark gaze. Teal'c came around to her other side, and they watched together as the gate disengaged.

Daniel and Miranda were out there, somewhere, and there was nothing they could do.

*****

She didn't think anything of it when she splashed through the first puddle. After all, they had come across seeping water several times. But after the third puddle, her socks were starting to get wet.

"Is it just me, or is it getting a bit damp in here?" Daniel asked. They had had to switch flashlights, as Daniel's had finally given up its spirit.

"Um…it's not just you," she replied, taking the excuse to stop. Her whole body hurt, but the greatest pain centers were her head and her ankle. She listened to Daniel's labored breathing and guessed his ribs weren't cutting him any slack, either.

"There's probably an underground source somewhere around here," she said, taking the flashlight from him. "That last quake could have tapped into it."

"In which case we could be in trouble."

"Not could. We are," Miranda corrected, pointing the light back the way they had come. A narrow rivulet meandered down the smooth, polished stone floor past their boots, followed by a second and third.

"Think we should run for it?" Daniel panted.

"Can we run?"

"No, but we can walk fast."

They began to hobble and limp down the passage as fast as they could. It wasn't fast enough. Within minutes, they were sloshing through ankle-deep water and it kept rising.

"If this tunnel doesn't start going up," Daniel began.

"Or we find a turn-off," Miranda inserted.

"Then we're going to have to swim for it," he finished. Miranda was about to reply when a sudden current knocked her off-balance. She fell forward with a splash and a yelp of pain. She laboriously returned to her feet, regarding her sopping garments with dismay.

"At least it's not cold water," she mumbled. Daniel snorted.

The water continued to rise rapidly. By the time it reached their knees, Miranda was starting to get seriously concerned.

Then another quake hit.

Miranda cursed at the unfairness of it all when she lost her balance again. The trembling and roaring lasted for a good ten minutes as they were showered with dirt and pea-sized gravel.

It gradually quieted until the only sound was the gurgling water. "Are you okay?" they both asked at the same time.

"I'm fine. Relatively speaking," Miranda said.

"Me, too." Daniel sounded a little strained. Miranda shook her head; her wet hair slapped her forehead and cheeks, but the faint roaring in her ears remained.

The water around them began to flow faster. Miranda blinked stupidly in the bouncing flashlight beam. It dawned on her that the roaring was getting louder.

"Do you hear that, too?" she whispered.

"Uh-huh," he replied, staring at her.

They had no time to react before the wall of water slammed into them, tearing away thought and feeling and awareness.

*****

_Darkness. Airless. Weightless. Can't breathe, can't see, can't think. Hands grabbed her arms and yanked her roughly to the surface. She swallowed a hungry breath that seemed to be half water before they shoved her under again. She tried to scream, but no sound came from her mouth, only an explosion of bubbles._

_Blood roared in her ears and an iron band tightened around her chest. Her struggle dwindled to feeble twitches as her limbs grew too weak to move. Just before she lost consciousness, she was once more dragged into life._

_She choked and gasped as they slapped and hit her. She was too disoriented, too weak to ward the blows. They screamed meaningless words at her, and then she was submerged again. _

_Can't think, can't see, can't breathe…_

Someone seized the front of her tactical vest and hauled her out of the water. She thrashed wildly, her fists striking flesh. She was rewarded by a harsh cry of pain.

"Whoa! Miranda, calm down!" a familiar voice wheezed. Her eyes flew open, though it was just as dark as it had been when they were closed.

"Daniel?"

"Yeah."

She tried to take a deep breath but she was wracked by deep coughs. When her lungs were finally clear, she uncurled enough to sit up. "What happened?" she asked hoarsely.

"I don't know. The surge must have taken us through the tunnel and up a shaft or something. I heard something splashing and figured it was you."

"Thanks."

"Figured I owed you one."

She groped blindly towards his voice and her fingers encountered sodden cloth. Her hand tightened involuntarily. She felt him move closer to her, and then his arms wrapped loosely around her shoulders. She carefully lowered her head onto his shoulder, mindful of his sore ribs.

"Hey, are you okay?" he murmured into her ear.

"No," she whispered. "There's been memories…from _before_, and I can't stop them."

He said nothing, stroking her hair soothingly.

"They did things, horrible things. Pointed a gun at me and threatened to shoot me if I didn't take it out of their hands. Nearly drowned me half a dozen times. Dark cells with no light. Oh, God…" She started shaking and she buried her face against his shirt.

"Miranda, that's all past, now. No one is experimenting on you anymore. You're free. Well, relatively. The point is you're not alone anymore." He cupped her face in one hand, his fingers tracing over her cheek.

After a moment, she took a ragged breath.

"Are you okay, now?" he asked. She nodded.

She heard him move around a bit. "We lost most of our gear in the flood," he reported, all business. "Including the flashlight."

"Wonderful," she muttered. "There had better be a way out of here. What is this place, anyway?"

"Feels like natural rock. There's no wall to either side as far as I can reach, but from the sound, I'd say the ceiling is pretty low."

Miranda bit back a cry of pain as she got to her feet. Her ankle throbbed mercilessly, and it felt as if a thousand needles had been jabbed into her back. Stretching up, she barely managed to touch the flat roof.

"You're right. The ceiling is low." She took a cautious step to the right. "No wall. The water's behind us. It sounds pretty big. Maybe we got dumped into a subterranean lake or something."

"Maybe." Daniel gave a low gasp as he stood up. "And no wall this way either."

"If we found a wall, we could circle around until we came to an opening."

"If there _is_ an opening."

"There will be," Miranda said firmly.

"Oh yeah?"

"Haven't you ever heard of the luck of the Irish?"

"Sorry to dash your hopes, but I think the SG-1 reputation cancels out whatever luck you may have."

Miranda's outstretched hands hit rock and she grinned. "Oh, yeah?" she mocked. "Come this way. I found the wall." She slid along the rock face and her hand touched air. "_And_ the opening."

"You're kidding!" She heard shuffling, awkward footsteps, and then a hand brushed her backside.

"Watch the hands, Jackson," she growled.

"Sorry." She could almost hear the blush. "Do you think we should keep looking or just take this one?"

"We should check out all our options," she said, echoing his earlier advice. About half an hour later, they discovered there _was_ only one option.

"Okay, then, onward," Daniel said. They leaned on each other as they limped into the darkness.

"If we get out of this—"

"When, Miranda. When."

"_When_ we get out of this, I'm never going to sleep without a nightlight again."

It was a weak joke, but it got a laugh out of him. In the darkness, the minutes stretched endlessly into infinity, with only their ragged breath to mark the passage of time. The various aches and pains began to blend together until her whole body was just one big bruise. Her feet continued to move simply because she didn't have the concentration to tell them to stop.

The incline began so suddenly she almost tripped, nearly taking Daniel down with her.

"Is that…light?" he gasped. She blinked at the faint glow far ahead of them.

"We're almost out," she said in disbelief. Their stumbling steps took on life, eagerness giving them the strength to get through the last hundred yards. Miranda shielded her eyes as they neared the small opening, the dim twilight achingly bright after the hours spent in complete darkness.

"We made it," Daniel whispered as he sunk down onto the mountainside. "I don't believe it."

Miranda craned her neck to make out the pair of crescent moons at their zenith overhead. "Yeah, we made it," she sighed. She lowered herself onto the ground beside him. "I think I'm going to pass out now."

"Not yet. We have to find someplace with more cover."

"Daniel, my ankle and your ribs won't take much more abuse. We'll just sleep inside the tunnel."

Taking one last breath of fresh air, they crawled back into the mouth of the passage and curled up next to each other. "Daniel?" Miranda murmured sleepily. "D'you still have your GDO?"

"Yeah," he mumbled back. "Vest pocket."

"Oh good." They were both fast asleep within seconds.


	4. Chapter 4

Four hours later, a shaft of sunlight stabbed into the tunnel, landing directly in Daniel's eyes. He groaned and reached up to adjust his glasses. It wasn't until his fingers hit his nose that he remembered he had lost them in the flood.

Lying on the cold floor of the tunnel, he assessed the damage to his body. It still hurt to breathe, and his head ached abominably. His right shoulder was oddly stiff, but he didn't remember injuring it. He turned his head to inspect it and got a mouthful of red-gold curls.

Well, that explained that. At his slight movement, Miranda woke up, lifting her head off his shoulder.

"Daniel?" she mumbled. "It's not morning already?"

"Well, the sun's up, so I guess it is."

With a sigh, she laboriously achieved an upright position, allowing Daniel to sit up. She raked her fingers through her hair, breaking up the dirt-encrusted spikes. "My kingdom for a shower," she moaned.

"Mine for a cup of coffee," Daniel replied. "Think about it this way, we're going home soon."

She cast a bleak look towards the mouth of the tunnel. "If we can get to the Stargate." She glanced back at him. "It's probably guarded, you know."

"Let's cross that bridge when we get there," Daniel said, using the wall to get to his feet.

"More like _jump off_ that bridge," she muttered. Daniel chuckled faintly.

"You almost sounded like Jack, there."

They stepped out of the tunnel and looked around. More accurately, Miranda looked around. Daniel asked her what she could see.

"The mountainside looks mostly made of shale, so it'll be tricky going down. After that it's just hill country as far as I can see. I have no idea where the Stargate is relative to us, and I won't until tonight."

Miranda was able to use her near-eidetic memory to triangulate her position without any sort of tools. She had made sure to chart the necessary constellations their first night on PR2-986.

"Then our first order of business is to get off the mountain," Daniel observed. He checked his sidearm; thankfully, it hadn't been torn free of its holster. Then he inspected the contents of his tac vest.

One GDO, two clips of ammo, a tape recorder (in a waterproof bag), a handful of Powerbars, a bandana, his sunglasses, a waterlogged journal, and his allergy medication.

"And again, no sunscreen," he muttered to himself, remembering that first trip to Abydos. With a regretful sigh, he tossed the journal and took two allergy tablets dry. He looked over at Miranda.

She didn't have much more to offer. A digital camera, a multi-tool, the k-bar knife she never went anywhere without (where on earth had she learned to use it?), extra ammo, and her own medication.

"Shall we go?" she asked a tad too brightly.

And so they began the sliding, skittering journey down the mountain.

*****

When Miranda had woken up that morning, she had been feeling marginally better than she had the night before. After an hour of navigating the treacherous slope under the hot sun, she began to feel even worse.

Her left ankle hurt so badly that it was numb. Someone had slammed an ice pick into the back of her skull, and every inch of skin on her back and arms was rubbed raw. All she wanted was to dope up on morphine, curl up in a ball, and will this all to be a nightmare.

She bit down on a cry as shale disintegrated under her injured ankle. She landed heavily on her hip, sharp stone slicing through the material of her pants. A curse exploded from her lips as she slid down the mountainside, scrabbling vainly for a handhold.

She came to a stop twenty feet later and rolled onto her back, tears leaking out from under her tightly-closed eyelids. Grating noises and a loud clatter announced Daniel's arrival.

"Miranda! Are you okay?"

"No," she hissed through clenched teeth. She removed her hands from where she had tucked them in her armpits and examined them balefully. Blood oozed from a myriad of cuts and scrapes on her palms.

"Ouch," Daniel said with a sympathetic wince.

"Hurts like hell," she gritted. She used her elbows to sit up and her hip sharply reprimanded her for negligence. "Bloody _damn_!" she yelled, twisting to inspect the damage. A huge hole gaped in her pants, through which she could see the flayed and torn skin. A dark stain spread over the green material.

Miranda lay back down, staring through tear-blurred eyes at the sky. "St. Joseph of Cupertino, what have I done to displease you?" she muttered darkly, feeling the onset of a massive pity party.

"Saint who?" Daniel asked, carefully removing bits of shale from her injured hip.

"Joseph of Cupertino. Patron saint of astronauts."

Daniel's laugh quickly choked off into a wheeze. "I _told_ you not to make me laugh," he protested, pressing the bandana against the bleeding lacerations.

Miranda flinched, then forced herself to go still. "Better pray to St. Agatha, too—earthquakes. And St. John Licci, of head injuries," she rambled, to keep herself occupied. "St. Petronilla, of mountain travelers. And just for good measure, throw in St. Helena."

"And what is she the saint of?" Daniel asked, tying off the bandana.

"Archeologists," Miranda replied, smiling despite herself. Daniel snorted, swatting her shoulder good-naturedly.

"Can you walk?"

She eased to her feet carefully, ignoring her stinging hands. "I don't have much of a choice, do I?" she asked dryly. Under her breath, she muttered, "Oh saints, beloved of the Savior, get us home and I'll attend midnight mass for a month."

"Be careful what you promise," Daniel said. "They just might hold up their end of the bargain, and then where would you be?"

"Safe and home, even if it means sore knees," Miranda retorted. This time, she was even more cautious in her descent. "I am _never_ going _anywhere_ off-world with SG-1 _ever_ again!"

It took all of her willpower and strength to keep going. Her hands and hip felt like ground meat, her migraine was getting worse, and she was exhausted. Feeling guilty, she snuck a look at Daniel.

He had one hand pressed against his side and his breathing was shallow and uneven. Sweat poured down his pale, wan face. Miranda sighed heavily. They were in for a long, agonizing walk.

*****

Daniel was ready to kiss the sweet grass when they finally reached the foot of the mountain. By mutual agreement, they rested in the shade of a boulder, passing a canteen back and forth.

"There's been no sign of Jaffa patrols so far," Miranda said, shifting her weight off her left hip. The bandana was already stained black, the blood starting to dry.

"It'll probably get worse the closer we get to the gate," Daniel replied, checking the position of the sun. About an hour until sundown. "Want a Powerbar?"

"Sure," she accepted the meal bar and ripped it open. She chewed slowly. "So, you grew up in Egypt?"

Daniel blinked at the sudden change in subject, but then realized she was just trying to make small talk. "Until I was eight," he said softly. "Then we went to New York."

She didn't push the subject any further. "I grew up in a tiny village on the Dingle Peninsula. You know, the kind where everyone knew English but no one bothered to speak it. We moved to Galway when I was in high school, and my dad used to take my brother and me to the Aran Islands on the weekends."

"You have a brother?" Daniel asked curiously.

"Alexander. He's four years younger than me. He builds airplanes."

"Sounds like fun. What about you?"

"I went to Trinity University in Dublin. Colorado University offered me a position as an assistant professor. I worked with them for about four years, and then…" she trailed off. They both had memories they didn't want to revisit.

"Tell me about Sha're," she said instead. Daniel smiled faintly.

"She was spunky, brave, beautiful, and strong," he said. "She was the only one who didn't put me on a pedestal. She saved my life, and Jack's, too. When Ra tried to force me to kill my friends, she and Skaara created a distraction to get us out of there." He took a deep breath, surprised that he was able to talk about his wife without the familiar ache in his chest.

Of course, his cracked ribs more than made up for it.

"What was it like, living on Abydos?"

"A dream come true. It was hot, hard, and primitive, but I loved it. I felt like I belonged. For the first time since…my parents died, I had a real family." Daniel removed an uncomfortable rock that was digging into his back. "But even when I lost that family, I gained a new one almost immediately."

"You guys work together really well," Miranda said quietly.

"Yeah, don't we?" Daniel murmured. He recognized her wistful tone. "You know, you and I don't do half bad together, either."

She snorted. "Oh, yeah. Concussions, broken bones, lacerations, and bruises. Really well."

"But we're alive," Daniel pointed out. "That's what counts."

She considered that. "Yeah, I guess."

They watched the sun set in companionable silence.

*****

The Stargate stood in obstinate silence, almost returning Jack's belligerent stare. He scrubbed a hand through his silver hair. _I don't leave people behind._ What a joke. He had left two of his people on a Jaffa-infested world, and he couldn't do a thing to get them back.

He had left Daniel behind. Once, twice, how many times? On Nem's world; on Klorel's ship. To his credit, both times he thought Daniel was dead or dying. This time, he knew Daniel was fine. Trapped, but alive.

How long before the Jaffa dug through the blocked cave entrance? And if they didn't, how long could Daniel and Miranda survive in the cave? Jack balled his fist and slammed it against the wall, welcoming the stinging pain.

He was a man of action; this idleness galled him. There had to be _something_ they could do.

"O'Neill," a smooth, baritone voice intruded on his dark thoughts. Jack looked up, glowering at the interruption. Teal'c was, as usual, unaffected.

"What?" Jack growled. Teal'c strode over to stand beside the Colonel.

"Are you well?" the Jaffa asked simply.

Jack snorted, shaking his head. "I'm fine."

"That does not seem to be the case."

"Look, Teal'c, just lay off me, okay?" Jack snapped. An eyebrow climbed Teal'c's forehead, almost reaching the gold serpent emblem imbedded in his dark skin. "I'm fine," Jack muttered again.

"Greer also is unhappy," Teal'c offered.

"Has she eaten anyone yet?" Jack asked archly.

"She has not," Teal'c replied. After a moment of silence, he spoke again. "There is a creature on Chulak we know as a _nantíl_. It is a common animal, similar to your rabbit. They are notoriously hard to kill, often surviving a shot from a zat'nik'itel and escaping." He paused and gave Jack an inscrutable look.

"They have an aptitude for thriving in the most inhospitable environments. Daniel Jackson is like a _nantíl_. He will endure this hardship as he has endured many before."

With that, Teal'c executed a perfect about-face and strode out of the gate room, leaving Jack to his thoughts. He dropped his chin to his chest, pondering Teal'c's words. What about Miranda? This was her first off-world mission. They didn't know how she'd react to this kind of situation. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to her.

He was interrupted yet again by a sudden sound, loud in the silence. But this time, he didn't mind at all.

It was the heavy _clunk_ of the Stargate's inner ring unlocking.

*****

Miranda held the long, coarse grass away from her face as she surveyed the flat area surrounding the Stargate.

"How many?" Daniel whispered.

"Ten, and a weapon installation of some sort," she whispered back, her heart sinking. "This is going to be tricky."

"Too bad we don't have any grenades," Daniel muttered. "We'll need a distraction of some sort." He looked at her sidelong, one eyebrow quirking upwards in a silent question.

She bit her lip. "I don't think I can do it on demand, Daniel," she said worriedly. "Definitely not taking them all out."

"You tore into an entire wall of rubble," he reminded her.

"I thought you were going to get eaten!" she protested. "Think of something else."

"We don't have any other options, Miranda," he said earnestly. "You can do this."

She shook her head, cold fingers of fear gripping her chest. He cupped her face in one hand.

"If you don't do this, we're not going home." His blue eyes bored into her green ones, and her mouth snapped shut. "Can you do this?" he asked.

She nodded stiffly. "But we do this my way," she warned.

"Deal."

*****

Far'uk sweated under his armor. Not, of course, that he would ever admit it. In fact, it was dangerous even thinking about it. Lord Apophis did not tolerate weakness. He gripped his staff weapon tighter and scanned the hills again.

He and his squad guarded the Chaapa'ai. They had come in the ha'tak and thus they would leave, but while the Lord Apophis conducted his business, no one else was permitted on or off the planet.

Hopefully, Lord Apophis would conclude his business swiftly and they could leave. It had been a year since he had been home, and his daughter was growing quickly.

The ground trembled faintly. Far'uk dismissed it as trivial. This continent suffered from many such quakes annually. Only one of the earth-rending tremors would be of any importance.

A ripple in the grass, like the edge of the wind, raced toward them. Far'uk turned to face it fully, anticipating a brief respite from the heat.

The two Jaffa tending to the heavy, stationary weapon cried out. Far'uk spun around in time to see the ground explode beneath the installation, swallowing both Jaffa and weapon.

The remaining Jaffa leveled their staff weapons, crying out challenges, but there was no one to fire upon. Far'uk frantically searched the hills. Another ripple ran towards them. The Jaffa scrambled out of the way, but to no avail.

Three of the guards were caught in the violent upheaval, dirt and grass raining down.

"Stand! Stand your ground!" Far'uk ordered as his men prepared themselves to run.

"Stand against what?" one of them yelled back. "A ghost?"

"Spread out, fan out!" Far'uk ordered. He only had four men left, and the shadow of failure already hung over him. A loud report, like an abbreviated clap of thunder, hung in the still air, followed by several more.

One of his remaining Jaffa jerked and collapsed. That made up Far'uk's mind. He broke and sprinted for the hills, his surviving men close behind. Once over the first hill, he dropped to a crouch and peered through the grass.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then two figures appeared over another hill and stumbled towards the Chaapa'ai. Both limped and appeared to be injured. Far'uk spat in disgust. _These_ had sent an entire squad of Jaffa into retreat?

Rising to his knees, Far'uk sent a staff blast searing down towards the trespassers. His men followed suit. The strangers ducked behind the dialer, the blasts missing by inches. The Jaffa continued to bombard them, seeking to overwhelm them by sheer volume.

One of the strangers attempted to dial the Chaapa'ai, but Far'uk targeted the device. The stranger flinched back from the shower of sparks. The dialer continued to smoke, obviously damaged. Far'uk spared a moment of worry that the device was no longer operable, but then decided it was a necessary sacrifice.

*****

Miranda pressed herself as close to the DHD as she could. Their plan had been sketchy to begin with, and now it had rapidly gone south.

"Can we still dial home?" Daniel yelled over the sound of staff fire. Miranda pulled herself up to peek over the rim of the device.

The keypad was melted and warped, and the red dome in the center was shattered. Miranda swallowed convulsively. "No!" she yelled back.

Daniel swore explosively. "_Now_ what do we do?"

Miranda looked from the DHD to the Stargate. "Cover me!" she yelled, and stood up. Daniel swore again and lifted his pistol. Miranda dredged up memories of Sam's diagram of the DHD and began re-wiring the interior. A flash of light caught the corner of her eye and dove to the ground. A staff blast sizzled by overhead.

She bounced up immediately and kept working until the crystals lit up and she was rewarded by a faint hum. She crouched next to Daniel. "I got the power source back up," she told him.

"What good does that do us?" he panted.

"I can dial out manually," she said. He stared at her, hope dawning in his slightly crossed eyes.

"Go for it," Daniel said. She took a deep breath and extended herself towards the Stargate.


	5. Chapter 5

Jack bolted from the gate room, dodging past the security team running in. "Unscheduled off-world activation!" Sergeant Harriman announced over the PA. Jack's boots pounded up the stairs to the control room.

Carter scrambled in from another direction, but Teal'c was already there. He lifted an eyebrow inquiringly at Jack.

"Close the iris," General Hammond ordered, glancing around at the three-quarters of SG-1 that hung over his shoulder. "Are we receiving a transmission, Sergeant?"

"Not yet, sir," Harriman said, sounding disappointed. He looked sidelong at Jack, as if gauging him for a reaction. Then he lunged for his computer.

"Uh, sir, we _are_ receiving a transmission!"

Jack's body was so tense he felt like he was going to break. A hand groped for his and he gripped it back instinctively, only barely registering that it was slim and feminine.

"It's SG-1's IDC!" Harriman yelped.

"Open the iris! Open the iris!" Hammond ordered. Jack barely heard him, sprinting towards the stairs. Carter pounded along beside him, and that's when Jack realized they were still holding hands. He dropped her hand, blushing faintly.

The blue event horizon rippled quietly, almost mockingly, as they burst into the gate room. They stayed behind the security team, waiting. Teal'c joined them after a moment; none of them spoke.

With a peculiar schlooping sound, a tattered, filthy figure tumbled through the wormhole and lay in a crumpled heap on the ramp. The security team tensed, and Jack rolled onto the balls of his feet.

A staff blast burst through the event horizon and spattered against the control room window. The figure levered himself up on one elbow and gasped, "Don't close the iris! Miranda's still out there."

Two more staff blasts impacted against the far walls, causing the security team to duck away. Then a second figure, even more tattered and filthy—and bloodstained to boot—plunged through the Stargate. The iris closed behind her with a screech of finality.

Jack didn't remember pushing through the SFs; the next thing he knew, he was kneeling beside Daniel on the ramp. "Daniel! Hey, how bad are you?"

Daniel waved him away. "Miranda," he croaked. "She needs a medical team."

"They're on their way," Carter assured him, checking Miranda's pulse. Jack craned his neck to check on her. Miranda's head lolled, her eyes closed and her skin pale. "She's alive," Carter reported.

Suddenly, Miranda's eyes snapped open and she rolled over onto her stomach. Her shoulders tensed as she retched violently, the heaving becoming weaker as nothing came up.

Daniel let his head drop onto Jack's knees. "She got us out of there," he whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"DHD…damaged. She dialed us out." His eyes fluttered closed. "Take care of her, Jack."

Dr. Frasier appeared on the scene, shooing SG-1 out of the way and whisking the returning prodigals to the infirmary. Jack watched them go, the knot of tension easing in his chest.

They were alive, and they were home. That's all that mattered.

*****

General George Hammond strode into the infirmary, acknowledging the orderlies on duty with a nod. Dr. Frasier looked up from a clipboard and hurried over to join him.

"How are they, Doctor?" George asked without preamble.

"They both have serious concussions and grazes from staff blasts," Frasier reported. "Dr. Jackson has two cracked ribs, as well. Dr. Connelly has a sprained ankle and numerous lacerations in her hands and left hip. Those aren't her worst injuries, however."

She led him over to a lit panel and indicated a black-and-white brain scan. "This is an MRI taken of Dr. Connelly an hour ago. You can see here and here where there's been some brain damage. We also noted that her brain activity has decreased twenty percent."

George frowned. "I thought her brain activity was sixty percent higher than normal."

"Usually it is," Frasier said gravely. "The only thing I can think of is burn-out."

"Are you saying she over-used her brain?" George asked skeptically, eyebrows climbing toward his non-existent hairline.

"Yes, sir." Frasier frowned worriedly. "And I'm not sure if she's going to recover."

*****

Sam balanced her laptop on her knees and attempted to continue typing. Daniel moaned faintly in his drug-induced sleep, and she looked up sharply, almost tumbling the computer from her lap.

He stirred fitfully for a moment before subsiding again. Sam blew a sigh and turned to look at her left. Miranda lay perfectly still, her skin almost the same color as the pillow she lay on.

Admitting defeat, Sam turned the laptop off and put it on the floor. She slipped her hand into Daniel's and was gratified that he gripped it immediately. She rubbed her forehead. They had returned broken, bruised, and bleeding. What had happened in the thirty hours they had been missing?

Why was Miranda's brain inexplicably shutting down?

Daniel stirred again, a frown etched between his brows. He moaned aloud and his lips began to move. "They're not coming. Jack's not coming," he mumbled weakly.

Sam hauled in a ragged breath; she was glad it was her and not the Colonel on this shift. Daniel tightened his grip on Sam's hand.

"Not alone. There's something…can hear it." He thrashed around a bit, until Sam was about to call for Janet. Then he calmed down abruptly, sinking deeper into sleep.

She felt the muscles in her shoulder slowly unclench, and she resigned herself to a long night.

*****

Jack slowed from a jog to a walk as he neared the infirmary door. He took a deep breath and pushed through. Daniel, a new pair of glasses in place, lit up when he stopped by his bed. Greer, who had been perched on the edge of his cot, quickly excused herself.

"Hi, Jack," he said lightly. "Sorry we were late. We got caught in traffic."

Jack chuckled softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Great, actually," Daniel replied. He lifted his arm, an IV in the crook of his elbow. "My head and ribs don't hurt, so I'm not complaining."

"Good. That's good," Jack fidgeted with something in his pockets. "Listen, Daniel, about what happened—"

Daniel held up a hand. "Don't even try to apologize, Jack, or I swear I'll throw a book at you." He reached over and tapped a thick, leather-bound tome for emphasis.

Jack raised his eyebrows, allowing himself to be distracted. "Does Janet know you've got those?"

He glanced around shiftily. "Sam brought them in for me. Janet's not around, is she?"

"Haven't seen her."

Daniel made a show of relaxing. "Oh, good."

Jack smiled and glanced over at the next bed. "How's Miranda?" Daniel's face fell.

"Janet says she's not doing very good. That she's suffered brain damage and parts of her brain are starting to shut down as a result."

"What? Why?"

The younger man fiddled with the sheets, twisting and smoothing them in a nervous gesture. "She saved my life, Jack. Twice. After we got trapped in the cave, we started exploring the tunnels. Well, there was this Unas," he trailed off with a wince. "An earthquake caused the tunnel to collapse. She was on one side and the Unas and I were on the other. She tore the collapsed area apart and tossed a boulder on the Unas."

Jack's eyebrows arched in surprise. So far, Miranda's exploits had been limited to exploding coffeepots.

"And then, when we got to the Stargate," Daniel continued, "it was guarded by ten Jaffa. She took out the weapon installation and five of the Jaffa. Then she mentally dialed the gate to get us home." He turned his head to look at her, still comatose.

After a moment of silence, Jack patted Daniel's knee. "You can put it all in your report. Now that you're awake, Hammond will probably do the briefing down here."

He nodded slowly, his hands once more fussing with the bedclothes. "It's my fault, Jack," he said after a moment. "I told her we weren't going to get home unless she did something."

Jack shook his head. "Daniel, while you were missing, people tried telling me it wasn't my fault, that I couldn't have done anything."

He raised his blue eyes to Jack's face. "Did it work?"

"No," Jack replied simply. "But think about this. If Miranda knew this would happen, do you think she would still do what she did?"

Daniel lowered his chin to his chest. "Yes. She probably still would."

Jack clasped his shoulder. "There you go. Get some rest, Danny."

*****

The plastic chair was not made for people recovering from injuries, Daniel decided, adjusting the pillow cushioning his back for the umpteenth time. He settled the book on his lap. He had recently found it, a volume on ancient languages by Joe Mallozzi, PhD.

Yet, as fascinating as it was, he couldn't concentrate. His gaze kept traveling to Miranda's face, ashen and still, her burnished copper hair fanned out like a halo.

It had been four days since they had returned, but she had barely moved. Daily MRIs showed that the brain deterioration wasn't getting any worse, but she wasn't improving, either. Daniel reached for his coffee mug. He hadn't left her side, and Janet didn't seem inclined to toss him out.

Jack, Sam, and Teal'c kept him well supplied with coffee and food, but otherwise, they left him to his vigil. Thank St. Helena for thoughtful friends. Daniel smiled briefly, remembering the humor in Miranda's voice when she was listing the saints, despite the pain he knew she had been in.

He drummed his fingers against the thick pages of his book. "What kinds of beer do you like, Miranda?" he asked quietly. "I'm not much of a drinker myself. Jack calls me a cheap date. You know, Skaara used to brew this absolute rotgut. You should have seen the expression on Jack's face when he tried it for the first time."

Pausing, he glanced hopefully at her, but she showed no sign of movement. Daniel sighed faintly and continued to talk quietly, keeping Miranda company.

*****

Her eyes flew open and she saw a dull, gray ceiling. Fear surged through her veins, and she was out of the cot before she realized it, knocking over a rolling stand and blundering into a privacy curtain.

"Whoa, Miranda!" a familiar voice cried. Miranda slowly untangled herself from the curtain, wincing as she rubbed the tiny wound in her arm where she had yanked the IV free.

"Jack?" Miranda asked, blinking and squinting in the bright light.

"Yeah. Come back and lay down." He offered her a hand to help her up. She got unsteadily to her feet and realized her ankle didn't protest.

"How long was I asleep?" she asked suspiciously as she slid back onto the hospital bed.

"Six days," Jack replied easily. "How do you feel?"

"Weird," she replied, rubbing her face. "What happened?"

"Nothing serious. Just your brain started shutting down." The light note in his voice sounded false.

She stared at him blankly. "I—what?"

"Janet said you lost twenty percent of your brain activity, but yesterday it started coming back."

As if the reference to her conjured her up, Dr. Frasier bustled in from another part of the infirmary. She clicked her tongue as she put away the IV. "You have a very unique ability, Dr. Connelly, but the human brain is not built for telekinesis. Take it a little easier next time."

"I'll be sure to tell the Jaffa that," Miranda said dryly as Janet examined her. "I feel fine, Janet."

"And you are fine. Just stay off the ankle as much as possible."

"Don't worry, we'll take care of her," Jack said with a grin. He held out a stack of clothing. "Here, get dressed. We're going to your apartment to make sure you get some rest."

"Why?" Miranda asked belligerently, recognizing her favorite linen blouse.

"Because we're going to celebrate yours and Daniel's return this weekend." Jack gave her a conspiratorial wink. Miranda laughed and took the proffered clothes.

"Whatever you say, Colonel."

Jack left so that she could change. After she put her shoes on, she saw one of Daniel's notebooks lying on the side table. Unable to resist, she reached over and flipped it to the last entry.

_Janet says Miranda will wake up today,_ she read. _I know Miranda is Catholic, and I've been asking every saint I can think of to help her. I guess I'll be attending those midnight masses with her, after all._

Miranda smiled and replaced the notebook with a fond pat. On second thought, maybe her first off-world mission wasn't so bad, after all.


End file.
